


Damage Done

by Sebe



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hurt Derek, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-02-03 00:48:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1725053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sebe/pseuds/Sebe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're all damaged, really. Derek and Stiles are broken in complimentary ways. </p>
<p>Or</p>
<p>After Kate shoots Derek, the pack saves him. This is all Derek's worst nightmares. Stiles gets that. Pre-Sterek</p>
            </blockquote>





	Damage Done

Author's Notes: Picks up after finale. Pack saves Derek from Kate and takes him to Deaton. Pre-Sterek

Summary: They're all damaged, really. Derek and Stiles are broken in complimentary ways. 

Or

After Kate shoots Derek, the pack saves him. This is all Derek's worst nightmares. Stiles gets that. Pre-Sterek

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Damage Done

 

There are noises, voices around him when Derek manages some murky level of consciousness. He measures his heart rate and breathing in case there are other wolves or perceptive hunters around. He can't remember what happened for a few minutes, but memory bleeds through slowly with awareness. Words become clearer. Seconds pass and he can sense where the others in the room are. 

He's lying down. Two or more are above his head. Another presence a room away. And one more a bit away from his side. That one, closest to him, sits up straighter before moving toward the other two in the room.

“...was near the old hou...not sure...she really?...”

“All interesting, really, but maybe we should do all the theorizing up front with Deaton before he disappears again. Have quiet time for a little bit?” It's the first voice to come in clearly. For some reason, it blunts the edge of tension in Derek. 

A sigh, worried and frustrated, too young.

“Yeah...”

The sound of a hand clapping on clothing in friendly reassurance.

“He'll be fine.” The third voice pipes up. “Let's go try and drag something useful out of that magic eight-ball of a vet. He'll watch him.” Derek figures he's referring to the first voice.

Doors swing open and closed. A long-suffering sigh and the last heartbeat in the room slowly approaches him, moving around to where Derek could see who it was if he opened his eyes. 

“Okay, they're cleared out. So open your eyes, since you're so obviously awake, and don't freak out.”

Hesitation, but the familiar tone has him obeying. 

It's Stiles.

Derek groans in frustration. Before he can stuff down the disappointment at yet another illusion, Stiles is holding his hand in front of his face. He gives him a blank look and the teen rolls his eyes.

“Count, genius.” Haltingly, he does. Another sigh of the put-upon. “Outloud.”

By the time Derek gets to ten, and only ten, he's confused. It's always a dream, isn't it? He counts again. It's a trick. It's never Stiles. 

“We got you, man. Don't know what she's doing here or what's happening yet, but this is real. We found you. And this place is warded against everything, including whatever the hell she is. So, yeah, all of that's real. Keep counting.”

Stiles leans against the table with his hip. Derek thinks it'll bruise because Stiles still looks sickly and worn through-

Eyes widening, Derek sits up abruptly.

“You're-?”

“Me?” he says with a tired smirk. “Yep.”

Derek never dreams Stiles like this, like he was after the nogitsune that he hadn't quite recovered from. May never completely heal from, a carefully hidden open wound for the rest of his life. Derek sees him like he had that first day, the scrawny kid in the woods stumbling along into something he could have had no idea would consume him, all of them, as it did.

Stiles looks worn down and thin, easily bruised. His undereyes are still purple. Derek tries to sit up. Stiles tries to stop him.

“Whoa, okay. Count it out again, man. Here-”

Stiles goes to hold his hands up, but Derek grabs his face between his hands instead, just staring at him. Stiles startles a moment, but doesn't pull back. He gets it. They're alike in this pain. Their fissures and fault lines match, jagged and sharp.

“We're real.” Stiles tells the wolf. Then, more to himself, “We're real.”

They're here. They're alive. Impossibly, they've stumbled through. Again, Derek finds himself waking from danger to find Stiles next to him. 

He doesn't mind. He doesn't think Stiles does either.


End file.
